


Fragments

by electrageira



Series: Interstellar theater play [1]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst and Feels, Introspection, M/M, Major Character Injury, Post-Canon Fix-It, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:42:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22067980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electrageira/pseuds/electrageira
Summary: After the war, Poe has to deal with the aftermath. Many things are still to be decided, adjusted and mended. Peace tables are to be set, future to be planned, past to be considered.Things take an interesting turn when Poe rescues a barely breathing General Hux.“You know Hugs, you’re definitely not funny! We've known each other for years and the first time we can finally meet and have a decent conversation… you sleep. Well, coma is definitely a great excuse to avoid conversation! Not even I could have thought something like that!”
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Armitage Hux
Series: Interstellar theater play [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1588393
Comments: 14
Kudos: 156





	Fragments

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, those two really motivate me to write.  
> After the ending of TROS, I needed to write a good ending for Hux too.  
> This is the first part of a serie of fanfic, please bear with me. I'm lazy, English not my first language, my muse get easily distracted and spare time will be a luxury in the next few weeks.  
> Reviews and constructive criticism are very appreciated!  
> As usual, a big big thanks you to my amazing beta, Lady_Vibeke.

_Drip_

_Drip_

_Drip_

The lulling sound of the bacta IV was the only audible thing in the medbay. Poe didn’t care if it was the dead of the night and he should have used those little precious moments of calm to sleep or at least relax. His bunk would have probably been more comfortable than the stool he was perched on, fidgeting with the datapad Konnix gave him to go through to sort a couple of nasty situation on Arkanis. 

He had far too many thoughts, too many things to supervise. 

Signing up as a pilot, he would have never imagined the war would end like this. Truth to be told, he never pictured himself survive. During the battle of Exegol, he thought a couple of times that it would be the end - _ok, that’s it, that how it ends, that’s how I'll go down, I just need to take down with me as many as possible of those bastards_!- his mother’s ring hanging heavy on his chest. 

But destiny and the Force were on the rebels’ side. The Dark side had been defeated, the Siths gone and the whole Galaxy was now to revive.

Many things were still to be decided, adjusted and mended. Peace tables were to be set. Future to be planned. Past to be considered.

And people still needed to rely on hope for their future. 

_That_ was the hardest part of victory. 

The aftermath.

Poe had never considered this to be his problem. From his childhood, he had few memories of the first years after the battle of Yanvin, when the Empire was apparently gone. He knew just what his parents told him. What Leia told him. 

He smiled at the thought of the Princess: Poe had always pictured her as the leader of something new and blooming. Leia, with her abilities and diplomacy and greatness. Not him, or at least, not him alone, without her guide and her support. 

She would have known what to do. She did once. She would have known now, too. Rey would know, Finn would know.

He didn’t. He had always been a pilot – a freshly promoted general- but not a leader. Or at least, not a leader _per se._

He was just good at flying. Probably the best. Even better than his mother. But unlike Shara Bey and Kes Poe and Leia, he didn’t know how to deal with diplomacy. He was good at many things, but definitely politics was not one of them. 

And he couldn’t really annoy Finn with his insecurities during the night too. And Rey…

Well, Rey was on a quest of her own. After gaining so much and losing even more, she needed to readjust her life and find Ben again. Poe had tried to understand the way of the Force with some help from Finn and Rey's explainantions of what happened on Exegol. But he couldn’t figure it out.

So he simply refuelled the Falcon, gave Rey everything useful and not strictly necessary to the Resistance and made her promise to behave and not do something stupid. With BB-8 in tow, she left the next dawn.

While watching the Falcon taking off, Poe felt small and tired and overwhelmed by everything that happened in the last couple of weeks. And this uneasiness seemed to linger and haunt his scarcely free time. He reflected on his own words to Rey - don’t do anything stupid, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do - He was the one talking. After all the mistakes he had made during the years. Probably the champion of stupidity. 

Remembering this conversation, Poe didn’t bother to lift his eyes from the datapad.

“What do you think? Not the brightest, huh? Yeah I know, never been, and now I’m stuck here. In a role I’m not trained for.” 

No answer came. Poe adjusted the IV line. That, at least, was almost silent. Not that he would complain. It was better than the omnipresent whoosh from the breathing aid machine. But despite the insufferable soft noise, in a couple of days he had got acquainted to that sound. It meant there was still hope.

 _Hope_.

Funny how that word now seemed something strange. He relied on hope, the whole Resistance relied on hope for so many years, in so many battles that now it just seemed strange that everything had come to an end and Rebel scum were now in charge of securing peace and prosperity. How this would be achieved, well… that was the difficult part.

Poe laughed a little: the one that could have given him some good advice was, in fact, lying on a makeshift cot right in front of him, the bacta IV dripping, a cast around his torso and no signs of waking up soon as Dr. Kalonia had predicted, but, in the and, alive despite a blast in the middle of his chest. 

Smart, resourceful, stubborn and angry General Hux. Even on his death bed.

Not that Poe would have preferred him gone. Well, technically yes.

He hated that man.

Yes, hated and despised him.

It was just hate the reason he take the crypted message. Just hate what drove him to meet Mitaka and accept to help saving the former general. 

Just hate

And despise.

Yes. Definitely. 

_Because it is easier to think you hate him_.

Easier to mock him with stupid mum-jokes. Easier to be bold and state assumptions about his role as a spy. Easier not to feel fear of what could have happened if the First Order found out who the spy was. When they found out.

Easier to pretend not to be a bit disappointed when Hux announced he wasn't going to go with them.

It’s so easy to feign hate., when Poe would have just wanted to save him too, instead. Because Hux staying and not leaving with Poe and Finn after saving them, well, that hurt a bit. Because Poe was just like this: always trying to do the right thing, to care for everyone, to save everything. To save and give a chance even to the bad guys.

So he kept lying and pretended not to care about the daily recap Dr. Kalonia gave him. Pretended not to care when he stopped by to check the ginger general. Pretended not to be scared the couple of times Hux had a close encounter with his death again. 

But Hux kept fighting.

And Poe kept on visiting him. At the beginning he just stopped for a couple of minutes, just checking and avoiding to linger over the still body.

Then, while everything else was setting, he begun lingering some more minutes.

Which turned into hours.

Which lead Poe to visit Hux at the strangest hours of the day and simply talk to him. About nothing and everything. Just chatting, just venting all his frustrations. 

“You know, this would be a good moment to answer. I’’ve ben talking to you about this kriffing meeting for hours, and you keep on sleeping. Thanks a lot!”

Hux didn’t flinch. 

Poe didn't even know why he was still doing this, but he didn't care anymore about that small voice in his head telling him it was wrong.

***********************

“You know Hugs, you’re definitely not funny! We've known each other for years and the first time we can finally meet and have a decent conversation… you sleep. Well, coma is definitely a great excuse to avoid conversation! Not even I could have thought something like that!”

 _Yeah, and that’s why you’re scared._ Poe thought to himself: the couple of days Dr. Kalonia had predicted for Hux to awake stretched into a week and then ten days.

Ten days during which Poe visited Hux every night. 

Speaking to him.

Arguing with him.

Arguing with himself.

Unlike the first times, when he would keep a proper distance from the bed, he began getting closer, inch by inch: one night just shifting a bit the chair, another one sitting at the foot of the bed. 

That night he simply came to the medbay, placed the chair right next to the bed and poured all his pent up frustration in a monologue. While staring at Hux. 

Observing him, studying him, committing to his memory every single detail of the general’s face. Poe didn’t know why he was doing that. To him, Hux was simply that damned general of the First Order, redhead maniac who wiped away planeyts with a single blast and without batting an eyelash. Not someone who helped the Resistance, who was a spy, who in the end was a double agent. 

Who was brilliant enough to set up a decoy and explain to Mitaka how to contact the Resistance. How to contact Poe himself. Smart to remember the private code used to cypher communication between Grand Admiral Sloane and Shara Bay. 

Yes, because Grand Admiral Sloane helped the Resistance in the aftermath of the fall of the Empire. Helped Shara and Kes and Leia and Luke and Han. Poe thought of them when he gave the coordinates of the meeting point on a nondescript planet to Lieutenant Mitaka.

Retrieving a barely breathing Hux. 

He owed him something.

And time would tell what _that_ was.

Absent minded, he just stared at Hux’s freshly grown beard. It seemed so strange to see him like that, his usual pristineness gone, his hair a bit grimy, longer and unkept. Even if Poe was two years younger, with this look Hux seemed a cadet fresh out from the Academy. Young, angry and frustrated.

“Hey, Hugs! If you hypothetically had to discuss with a couple of governors about durasteel prices, would you try to charm them or be bold and make the price? Because when I was smuggling spice - ok not only spice - and I was undercover, just to clarify – well, I had a blaster with me. And in the end everything was a mess. But now I must rely on diplomacy! Me! Of all people…”

A twitch of the hand.

A simple movement of middle and ring finger, barely there.

It was what alerted Poe, just a brush of fingers on the leg still propped on Hux’s bed. 

Poe got up abruptly to check any other sign. Maybe some lid movement or an easier breathing. Dr. Kalonia had told him many times that the awakening process would be long and certainly not immediate. And the recovery even longer.

“I knew it…” a faint sound came from Hux.

“Hugs? You awake? Are you with me?” Poe snorted: “And well… no, you didn't… but I'm glad you guessed right!”

Slowly Hux opened his eyes, lids heavy, empty gaze, his breath a rattling sound despite the oxygen.

“Here you are Hugs! Easy, you're safe, you’re ok. Worst part is gone!”

A gleam of realization was in Hux’s eye: his plan worked. He tried to speak again but only a gurgling sound came out.

“Easy Hugs, your lungs collapsed. Bacta mended them, but you still need time to recover. Dr. Kalonia told me you'll need at least a few weeks. I’m going to call her. Be right back!”

When Poe came back, Doc in tow, Hux was asleep again. Poe smiled to himself: this was going to be interesting.


End file.
